


Wait For Me

by mikaceous



Category: Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Book Series: A Vision of Shadows, Canon Compliant, F/M, FernIvy is good you guys are just mean, Fluff, Gen, Romance, Sisters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-23
Updated: 2019-09-23
Packaged: 2020-10-26 23:14:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,892
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20750354
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mikaceous/pseuds/mikaceous
Summary: Four times that Ivypool didn't notice Fernsong, and one time she did.





	Wait For Me

**I.**

“Let all cats old enough to catch their own prey gather beneath the highrock for a Clan meeting!”

Ivypool looks up from her paws; she had been in the middle of picking her way down from the camp entrance after returning from a hunting patrol when Bramblestar had called for the meeting. It was hard to see where she was going with her mouth full of squirrel, which blocked her view of her paws, and it was slow going. 

Behind her, her old apprentice Snowbush gives her a friendly shove. “Come on! I want to hear what Bramblestar has to say!”

“He won’t start without us,” mews Thornclaw mildly, but Snowbush pushes past Ivypool and bounds down the rocks to join the rest of the gathering cats, haphazardly throwing his two mice onto the freshkill pile as he passes. 

“Ah, to be young!” purrs Thornclaw. 

Ivypool holds back a purr of her own as she follows Snowbush at a more controlled pace. True to Thornclaw’s word, Bramblestar doesn’t start until she and Thornclaw take their places at the back of the group of eagerly waiting cats. Squirrelflight sits at the foot of the ledge, facing the rest of the Clan; next to her stand three full-grown apprentices, shifting their paws and casting excited glances among each other. 

Bramblestar looks over the eagerly waiting Clan before starting. “Today, these apprentices completed their assessments and are ready to join us as warriors of ThunderClan.” Cats yowl eagerly at his words, and he waves his tail to calm them down. “I, Bramblestar, call upon my warrior ancestors to look down on these apprentices. They have trained hard to understand the ways of your noble code, and I commend them to you as warriors in turn.” Gazing down at a fluffy yellow tabby, he continued, “Fernpaw, do you promise to uphold the warrior code and to protect and defend this Clan, even at the cost of your life?”

Fernpaw quivers in excitement as he lifts his chin. “I do.”

“Then by the powers of StarClan, I give you your warrior name. Fernpaw, from this moment on you will be known as Fernsong. StarClan honors your compassion and your loyalty, and we welcome you as a full warrior of ThunderClan.”

The cats breaks out into cheers. “Fernsong! Fernsong! Fernsong!” Ivypool joins in, happy to have more warriors. All of the Clans had taken a hard hit during the Great Battle, and too many good cats had died. With each warrior ceremony, they slowly heal from the damage that has been done. 

Bramblestar gives Sorrelpaw the name of Sorrelstripe and Hollypaw the name of Hollytuft. The Clan cheered for their new names and gathered around them, congratulating the new warriors before they start their vigil tonight. 

Ivypool watches from a distance; she hadn’t known any of the new warriors very well. Except for Fernsong, who always seemed to end up on patrols with her; she doesn’t think that merits interrupting his celebration with his own kin, and she turns around to help herself to a well-earned meal. 

Before she can get far, she hears pawsteps behind her. “Ivypool?”

The silver-and-white tabby she-cat whips her tail in surprise when she sees Fernsong padding after her, his green eyes glimmering with some expression Ivypool finds hard to read. Eagerness? Expectancy? 

“Congratulations,” Ivypool mews, dipping her head to the new warrior. “It’s about time you got your warrior name. I’ll be happy to sleep soundly in my den tonight, knowing that I don’t have to keep watch!” 

“Of course!” Fernsong mews earnestly. “I’ll protect the Clan with my life.”

“I’m sure it won’t come to that. We’ve had nothing but peace for the last few moons.” Ivypool purrs. 

“I hope so, too.” Fernsong glances behind him, as if to make sure that no other cat was around, and asks, “So, what do you think?”

“Of what?”

He sticks his chest out and mews shyly, “Of my name!”

“Oh.” Ivypool looks Fernsong over. It wouldn’t have been her first choice, if she was leader, but she has to admit that it does have a certain ring to it. “It’s elegant.”

“Good.” Fernsong licks his chest in embarrassment. “I was so worried that I would get a mousebrained name.”

“There’s no need to worry,” assures Ivypool, “It suits you.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Fernsong purrs. “Listen, Ivypool, I was wondering if, sometime, you might--”

“Hey, Fernsong!” 

The yellow tabby whips around to see Sorrelstripe and Hollytuft waving him down from below the highrock. Next to them and Lionblaze and Cinderheart, beaming at their two daughters like they had just chased off an entire patrol of rogues single-pawed. “Come over here! Our parents want to talk to you!”

“Oh.” Fernsong glances at Ivypool, blinking apologetically. “You don’t mind?” 

“Go. It’s fine. I have to go, anyway. My sister’s waiting for me.” She flicks her ears towards the other side of the clearing, where Dovewing is crouching next to a freshly-killed rabbit, watching the two of them talk. “Congratulations, again.” 

If Fernsong tries to say anything else, it gets swallowed up by Lionblaze’s rumbling mew as he congratulates his son. Ivypool joins Dovewing and tears into her half of the rabbit, relishing the taste of its fresh blood on her tongue.

“What was that about?” asks Dovewing, looking at the new warriors with a thoughtful expression on her face. 

“What, you mean with Fernsong? I don’t know.” Ivypool shrugs. “He was always a little… different. I’m sure it was nothing.”

“_I’m _ different,” protests Dovewing.

“No,” Ivypool rubs her face against her sister’s cheek. “You’re _ special _.” 

**II.**

The rosy dawn sky is still moist and dewy when Ivypool pushes her way out of the camp entrance. She yawns, pushing her forelegs in front of her in a spine-popping stretch. 

“Still tired?” asks Birchfall, who had been waiting for her when she arrived. He brushes Ivypool’s cheek with his nose in greeting.

Ivypool straightens and shakes herself out. “Just for a few more heartbeats. I’ll wake up by the time we start the patrol.”

Birchfall nods, and together the two of them wait while Fernsong, Cherryfall, and Toadstep climb out of camp to join them. Besides Birchfall, every cat looks as sleepy as Ivypool feels. 

Fernsong blinks at Ivypool and sweeps his tail up in greeting. “Hi, Ivypool.”

“Morning,” Ivypool mumbles, her words slurred by another yawn. 

“Rough night?” the yellow tom’s whiskers twitch with concern. 

She shrugs. “No worse than usual.” That isn’t to say that her sleep is usually great, but no cat here needs to know that. Moons of surviving living nightmares in the Dark Forest aren’t something that can be shaken off like rain after a storm. 

Birchfall casts Ivypool a sympathetic glance; out of all of the cats here, he understands the most what she went through, both as her kin and as an ex-Dark Forest trainee. “It looks like every cat is here, so there’s no reason to delay.”

The air isn’t that chilly, but Cherryfall’s fur is thin, and she shivers. “The sooner we start the dawn patrol, the sooner we can end it.”

The five cats head towards the WindClan border at a brisk trot. Ivypool stays focused on the forest around her, looking for signs of trespassers, or maybe a passing mouse--the freshkill pile had been empty when they left this morning, and she wouldn’t turn her nose up at a warm meal. 

“Look!”

Someone bumps Ivypool on her shoulder, jolting her out of her concentration. She glances next to her, at Fernsong, who motions above them with his ears. “Look!” he whispers again. 

The silver-and-white cat follows his gaze towards the sky; the patrol had broken out of the treeline and had a wide view of the surrounding landscape. The sun was rising over their backs, and the clouds spread blood-red fingers into the golden sky. The water in the lake below them was perfectly still, reflecting the sky above like a golden egg yolk. 

The rest of the patrol stops to admire the view. “Good eye, Fernsong,” mews Toadstep. 

Ivypool nods, then motioned for the others to be still. “I hear something.”

“In WindClan?” asks Birchfall, looking over the border stream towards the moor. 

“No, over here.” Ivypool crouches and crawls forward, placing her paws as lightly on the ground as if she were a StarClan warrior. She opens her mouth and drools when the scent of squirrel wafts over her tongue. She pounces, and kills her prey in one swift bite.

“Great job, Ivypool!” mews Fernsong. 

“Breakfast _ and _ a beautiful view?” mews Birchfall. “What a great day this is shaping up to be, and it’s barely dawn!”

The squirrel was plump for this late in Leaf-fall, but it was only large enough for each cat to have a few bites each. Still, Ivypool was grateful for her catch; the prey sat warmly in her belly and gave her energy to complete the rest of the patrol. 

As they finish eating, Ivypool swipes her tongue around her jaws and pads after Birchfall. 

“Hey, Ivypool.”

Ivypool sighs. _ What is it now? _Trying not to look annoyed, she turns to look at Fernsong. 

The yellow tabby gazes at her with admiration glowing in his eyes. In the dawn light, his yellow fur is cast in a handsome golden glow. “That was a great catch you made,” he mews. “I would have never noticed that squirrel if you hadn’t pointed it out. Thanks for sharing it with us.”

She shrugs. “It’s what any cat would have done.” She turns back around and follows the rest of the patrol, leaving Fernsong to catch up. She can’t help but think that maybe he’d be better at noticing what was under his nose if he didn’t spend all of his time looking up at the sky, distracted by pretty colors. 

**III.**

The patrols have all finished for the day, and all of the cats of ThunderClan gather in the center of camp to eat and share tongues. The air is warm, and the sun, sinking lower into the sky, covers the hollow in soft shadows.

Ivypool lies down in an open space next to the elder’s den, sharing tongues with Dovewing. The two of them had shared a meal with Purdy earlier, but now he was a few tail-lengths away, telling some rambling story to a politely disengaged Squirrelflight and Sandstorm. 

Ivypool purrs and licks her sister’s shoulder. “I’m glad he’s talking to them and not us,” she murmurs, too quietly for any cat to overhear.

Dovewing rolls her eyes and shoves Ivypool with one paw. “Oh, come on, they’re not that bad.”

“If you’re trying to avoid talking to some tomcat who can’t take a hint, maybe.” 

Dovewing swats her with her tail, but the gleam in her eyes and the twitch of her whiskers tells Ivypool that she isn’t offended.

They might have continued their comfortable banter like that until it was time to head to the warrior’s den for the night, except the quiet patter of paws told Ivypool that some other cat was approaching. She looks up to see a fluffy yellow tom blinking down at her with a soft smile. “Hi.” 

“Hello, Fernsong,” Dovewing mews. “How are you? Is anything wrong?”

Fernsong’s green eyes widen. “No, nothing’s the matter! It’s just that all of the cats I usually share tongues with are, um, preoccupied.” He motions with his tail, and Ivypool sees his siblings and parents tussling with each other in a mock fight. “I love them to death, but it’s not my ideal way to spend a night.” He pauses and glances at the two of them expectantly. 

“So?” says Ivypool. Out of the corner of her eye, Dovewing glares at her, but she ignores her.

Fernsong tips his head to the side. “So I was wondering, do you need any company? Maybe I can share tongues with you.”

Dovewing opens her mouth to speak, but Ivypool interrupts her before she can say anything. “We’re all set, thanks. We’re almost done.”

“Oh.” Fernsong’s tail droops. “Okay. Maybe next time?”

“If you need someone to share tongues with, I’m sure Purdy wouldn’t mind if you listened to his story,” mews Ivypool, ignoring his question. She nods over at the elder, who looks to be a heartbeat away from standing up and reenacting his story for dramatic effect.

Fernsong nods mutely and pads away.

“What was that about?” Dovewing hisses as soon as he’s out of earshot.

Ivypool shrugs. “It’s nothing.”

“It _ was _ nothing, until you shut down Fernsong when he didn’t even do anything!” 

Ivypool turns away from her sister’s accusing gaze. “We didn’t need his company. We have each other.”

Dovewing’s face softens, and she signs, touching her nose to Ivypool’s ear. “One cat can’t be everything for another cat. That’s not realistic, or fair.”

“I know, I’m sorry. Maybe I shouldn’t have acted that way. But after Hawkfrost manipulated me into believing that the Dark Forest cared about me, it’s been hard to get close to other cats.” Ivypool sighs and presses her head underneath Dovewing’s. “Once I feel like they’re starting to probe, I pull away. I never even became close with Snowbush, even though he was my apprentice, and I worked with him every day for moons. Something held me back. But I know I can trust you. You’re my sister! I trust you with my life.”

“You were only an apprentice then,” murmurs Dovewing. “You didn’t know any better. Besides, we’re all Clanmates! If we can’t trust our Clanmates, then who can we trust?”

“Tigerstar used to be a ThunderClan cat. I don’t trust him farther than I can throw him.”

Dovewing flicks her tail against Ivypool, unamused. “You can’t possibly believe that _ Fernsong _is anything like Tigerstar. I saw him cry once because Graystripe sat on a butterfly and squashed it.”

Despite herself, Ivypool purrs in amusement. “No, I don’t think Fernsong is evil.” Her mood falls again as she casts a glance at the yellow tom. Though his eyes follow Purdy as he talks, his gaze is vague and unfocused. “I know I’m being paranoid. I’ll get over it eventually, but right now I need your support.”

“Of course.” Dovewing licks Ivypool’s forehead. “Of course I support you. I’ll be here to support you no matter what, you know that. That’s what kin are for.”

**IV.**

“Ivypool?”

Ivypool winces and lashes her tail back and forth. She had finished her patrols earlier in the day, but she still felt restless, and her claws itched to dig into something solid. When She had made it outside of the camp entrance, nodding to the guard, Snowbush, as she passed, she thought she was home free. She didn’t want to make a big fuss, and had meant to sneak out of camp without any cat noticing.

Fernsong had noticed anyways. 

In a way, the calm, watchful eye he keeps over the Clan, always willing to lend a sympathetic ear to any cat that seems upset, is kind and considerate. But at this moment, it’s just annoying. 

She turns around to face the yellow tom, trying not to glare without much success. “What do you want?”

He blinks innocently and curls his tail up into a question mark, taking a step forward. “Well, I saw that you were leaving camp, and wondered if you wanted some company.”

Ivypool grunts. “I’m just going hunting.”

Fernsong’s eyes light up. “Well, I can come with you! We can bring some other cat, if you want, and make it a proper patrol.”

“No, it’s fine.” Ivypool glances past Fernsong, at all the other cats chatting and relaxing in the sunny hollow. “You should go back and share tongues with your kin. I don’t need company.”

“It’s not about what you need,” says Fernsong, tilting his head to the side. “It’s about what you _ want _.”

Ivypool growls. She’s had enough of this. “Who cares about what I want? You don’t have to pretend to be nice to me, Fernsong. I know you don’t mean it.” 

Apparently her words finally sink in when all of her subtle brushing off never has. Fernsong’s tail droops, and he shrinks back, growing small. “Of course I care about yout, Ivypool,” he mews. “Why wouldn’t I?”

Ivypool sighs and looks away. A part of her feels pity for the young tom, but another, bigger, part of her feels like he had it coming for him. “No other cat does.”

“No other cat? Not even Dovewing?”

She curls her lip and hisses. “You know what I mean.”

Fernsong shakes his head. “I really don’t. We’re your Clanmates, Ivypool. We _ have _ to care about each other.” He stares at Ivypool with a look that speaks more of care and compassion than any amount of words ever could. Ivypool’s heart flip-flops when she looks into his deep, green eyes. 

“How can you look at me like that?” she hisses. “I can’t get close to any cat, no matter how hard I try, because I’m terrified that something bad will happen. But you love cats as easily as you breathe. How do you do it? How do you look at me like… like I _ mean _ something to you? After all I’ve done?” She digs her claws into the earth, her tail puffed out to three times its size as she whips it around.

“You haven’t _ done _ anything yet!” protests Fernsong. “Sure, maybe sometimes you can be rude, but it’s nothing we can’t work on.”

“No, not that. I mean training in the Dark Forest. Working for cats who are _ evil. _”

Fernsong blinks in surprise. “Well… I never knew you as a bad cat. I was born after the Great Battle. My parents always told me that you were a hero! But to me, you’ve never been a villain or a hero. You’ve always just been… you.”

Oh. 

Ivypool stills, and is surprised to realize that she’s blinking back tears. How can any cat be so... so… so _ Fernsong _? “I’m sorry,” she chokes out. “I have to go.” She turns and runs into the forest. 

She doesn’t look back, even when she hears Fernsong calling out after her, begging her to come back. 

**V.**

Normally, when she gets the chance, Ivypool leaps at the opportunity to go hunting by herself. It’s not that she doesn’t like her Clanmates, but it’s nice to be alone with her thoughts. Sometimes living communally can get a bit claustrophobic. Even Dovewing, for all that Ivypool loves her, can be a bit much every now and then.

But today, instead of exiting the camp, Ivypool changes her mind halfway through and turns towards the nursery. 

It’s not hard to find the cat she’s looking for: she spots Fernsong lying outside the nursery, surrounded by three tumbling kits, lying calmly on the ground as they clamber over him. His yellow tail tics back and forth idly as he watches a fluffy tortoiseshell she-cat leap onto his back. She puffs her chest out and leers down at her two littermates on the ground. “I’m the leader of the hill!”

“No way! _ I’m _ the leader!” a black tom mews, wiggling his haunches as he launches himself at her. He knocks the tortoiseshell off of Fernsong, and they tumble off into the grass nearby. The third kitten, a ginger and white she-cat, remains snuggled up against Fernsong’s side, watching with wide eyes. 

Fernsong’s ears twitch in her direction as Ivypool approaches, and he turns towards her with a cautious look in his green eyes. “Hi, Ivypool.”

“Hi, Fernsong. Are you busy? I was going to ask… well, it looks like you have your paws full right now.” Ivypool’s gaze flicks towards the kittens tumbling about around him, growling playfully at each other.

“I’m not busy at all! The kittens are old enough that they don’t need someone to watch them. I just enjoy playing with them.” Fernsong purrs, then cuts himself short. “Are you sure? I mean, after last time, I thought…” he trails off, tucking his tail around the ginger-and-white kitten at his belly nervously. 

Ivypool swallows. Ever since she had stormed off on Fernsong almost a moon ago, he had given her a wide berth. He had stopped asking to share tongues with her, and when they went on patrol together he didn’t speak to her, except to greet her at the beginning and say goodbye at the end. 

It wasn’t a cold shoulder; he was giving her a polite amount of personal space. The shift in their dynamic hadn’t even been obvious to anyone else, except for Dovewing, who noticed almost immediately and had wheedled the story out of a flustered Ivypool while sharing tongues that night.

Dovewing thought that Ivypool should have apologized to Fernsong right away, but she had needed the time to think. And she had done a lot of thinking over the last moon. “I’m sorry about what happened last time,” she mews, twitching her tail self-consciously. “I didn’t know how to react. But now I’m ready to take you up on that offer to come hunting with me. If now’s a good time, of course.”

The yellow tabby breaks into a purr. “Of course it is! I’d love to go hunting with you.” 

He starts to get up, but the kitten at his side mewls in complaint. “Fernsong, don’t go! My tummy hurts. Can you fix it for me?”

Fernsong blinks. “Oh, dear. That’s not good. I can’t help you, but I think I know someone who can.” He looks at Ivypool sheepishly. “Do you mind waiting while I take Honeykit to the medicine den? I’ll be back in two tail shakes.”

Ivypool purrs, despite herself. “Of course. After all the waiting you’ve done for me, it’s only fair that now I wait for you.”

“I’ll be back soon.” As Fernsong steps forward to touch his nose to Ivypool’s, his soft scent, like the warm and earthy scent of a mouse den, floods her mouth. She looks away, the tips of her ears burning. 

Fernsong noses Honeykit forward. “Come on, let’s have Jayfeather take a look at you. He’ll get you better in no time.”

Ivypool smiles as she watches him go, gently leading Honeykit to the medicine den. As she waits, Graystripe pads out of the elder’s den. He nods to Ivypool, his gaze flicking behind her to the kits tumbling around, still tussling for the right to call themselves leader. “Morning, Ivypool. Playing with the kits?”

“No,” Ivypool mews, fur prickling with embarrassment, as if she had been caught breaking the rules. “Just waiting for Fernsong. We’re going hunting.”

Graystripe purrs. “That sounds lovely. Catch a vole for me, will you?”

“Will do.”

Dovewing was right; she did need more than one cat in her life. She’s sure there are plenty of cats in the Clan who would be eager to lend her trust and affection if she was willing; clearly she already had their trust and admiration, even the grumpy old elders. But for now, she’s more than happy to gain the confidence of just one. 

It’s nice to have a new friend. And maybe, she thinks, watching Fernsong delicately handle Honeykit’s complaints as he herds her towards the medicine den, never wavering from his calm, steady self, maybe someday he’ll be something more. 

**Author's Note:**

> I've had this bad boy sitting in my documents, mostly done, for a few months now. Finally whipped up the drive to finish and edit! I hope y'all enjoy. FernIvy is soft and I love it. c:


End file.
